Dignity Out The Window
by Sinister Tomato
Summary: Roy Mustang truly believed he transmuted the worst gift a man could give a woman. Ever. MustangxHawkeye


Disclaimer: Nope, don't own it.

A/N: grumbles I forgot about valentines day…So, here is a fluff piece to make up for that. Inspired by this picture: www(dot)deviantart(dot)com(slash)view(slash)6590952(slash) Beautiful work. Especially on the hands. Hard to believe it's marker.

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Roy Mustang truly believed he had just transmuted the worst gift possible to give to any woman on any day of any year. It was very likely that he would not live to see the next day.

He hadn't meant to transmute anything. He had opted before to just buy something and get this grand embarrassment over with. Yet, that option failed him because he did not get off work until one o'clock in the very early morning. All the shops were closed. Just his luck.

He then opted for dashing home and finding something to give to the woman he was going to all this trouble for. He literally nearly tore apart his entire apartment to find something. He found that all he really had in his apartment was dust and books with a few pieces of furniture.

That was when he opted for his last option. Alchemy. He would transmute something for her instead. Question was, what? What could he possibly transmute to show his affection? He thought of chocolate and flowers, but he crossed those off as too common. Jewelry was something she didn't need or even seem to want, judging by her lack of wearing any at all.

Just as he was about to give up, an idea struck his brain almost painfully. She just took in a stray puppy not even a week ago. The pup was surely christened by now, but no collar…

That was when he unbuckled his belt and pulled it off the pants of his uniform. The pants fell a bit below his waist, but he paid no heed to them. He took out a piece of white chalk from the drawer in his desk and promptly drew a quick, precise array. He admired his work for a moment. It wasn't bad, considering how long it had been since he had ever transmuted anything besides flames.

He unceremoniously flung the belt onto the transmutation circle and put his bare, calloused hands onto the edge. He pushed down. Golden light began to spark and swirl around the belt, only confining the energy within the edges of the array. The belt began to morph it's shape as he willed it to loop. The light began to fade as Mustang stood up. He stared at the collar with apprehension.

He really hoped she wouldn't take it the wrong way.

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There were many things he found superficial. One of them was buying gifts when he could easily just make them. It saved money, and it showed the object of his affection how much he truly cared. This, however, was the first time he didn't buy a gift. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he actually _cared_ for this person.

That very reason was the only reason why the Flame alchemist had stooped so low as to actually plucking flowers from the earth in the park. He at first decided against giving her any flowers, but then he realized flowers weren't a bad idea, if you knew how to give them. Transmuting them would have been a pain because he'd have to find the right color and apply it and then the composition of the flowers would have to be perfect for growth…He did not fancy remembering the composition of plants on such short notice.

He couldn't buy them anyway, so he decided to do it the classy way; plucking them out of the earth himself. Sure, he was losing his pride, but he could easily regain it. There was only one person whom could ever make him throw his pride out the window willingly, and she could possibly be asleep now.

If anyone could pull off walking on the street covered in dirt and holding a grubby little package under one arm and a bouquet of mismatched flowers in one hand with an air of dignity, Roy Mustang certainly pulled it off without a hitch. It was an easy task, though, considering the fact that no one was watching.

He finally arrived on the doorstep of his object of affection and humiliation. The lights were off. Hesitating slightly, he rung the bell. He heard a faint shuffling of feet through the door and after many clicks, it opened to reveal Riza Hawkeye in light blue pajamas. She stared at him with a confused, sleep-filled gaze.

Mustang stared back impassively, almost cold. He looked down at his booted feet and held out his disaster of gifts. "Here."

Hawkeye took them without question, but was still confused, her sleepy haze still clouding her thought process. "What…?"

"Usually, I give women chocolate or jewelry or something most women usually want. With you it's…different. You don't seem to want any of that, so…I had trouble finding something for you. It was quite a challenge." Mustang's spleen was as stiff and straight as a broom. He felt like he had a gherkin shoved into his backside.

Hawkeye still couldn't materialize words. Instead, she unwrapped the package and stared at the contents. It was a collar. A regular, standard brown collar. Before she could take interpret it the wrong way, Mustang hastily added, "It's for your dog." Hawkeye still didn't seem to register any of the words that left Mustang's mouth. If anything, that curt explanation caused more confusion.

He sighed inaudibly and turned on his heel, his head still lowly inclined. He believed his attempt to have failed. "I told you I had trouble finding something…" He held up his hand without looking back and was about to lower it again when slender fingers entangled in his. Startled, he turned around and was about to question the action when the thing he had been aiming for tonight met him head on. Or rather, lips on.

It was a quick, simple kiss. Not full of lust nor was it innocent either. She pulled back immediately, the smile gracing her lips filled with an odd warmth that seemed foreign on her usually stoic features. She tugged on his arm and forced him to follow her inside. He obliged, feeling idiotic and joyful at the same time.

That night, they curled up together in bed as close as skin allowed. His face buried itself into the nape of her throat instinctively and Hawkeye mumbled a little as she curled farther to his bare chest.

His gift wasn't as bad as he imagined it to be.

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Hawkeye couldn't resist. She would tease him about it later. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.

A picture lay in the palm of her hand. Her smile was warm as she gazed at it fondly. In it, was her object of affection and infuriation. Sheets were draped over Mustang's lower body. One arm was blatantly outstretched over the sheets. Dark bangs cast shadows over closed eyes.

Her mahogany irises drifted over to the pup beside Mustang. His limbs and tail stayed stubbornly curled around his body. Like Mustang, he appeared peaceful in his sleep. There was a remarkable resemblance between the two.

The shirt she donned earlier reeked of faint ash and the hint of a musky smell. It was not hers, but it was comfortable and she felt no reason to take it off so soon. Work was not for another two hours. Wearing nothing but a pair of light blue pajama pants and her lover's button-up shirt, she walked down the stairs impassively to cook breakfast.

The collar lay on her desk next to the pale blue vase of mismatched flowers. That kind of gift could give a woman the wrong idea very quickly. However, at least Roy Mustang had the brains to give the gift with a logical explanation, however illogical the gift.

None of that mattered much to her. Her thoughts lingered on a certain disheveled dirt-covered colonel. Indeed, he presented her with the near-perfect gift. It was the knowledge of knowing that he would abandon his dignity and pride for her.

Still, that didn't mean she would abandon teasing him with the picture that was tucked safely in the palm of her hand.

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A/N: Oh, good. I finally wrote a piece that doesn't have one of them dying or ending somewhat sadly. Review. I like to know what people think. Constructive criticism would be good, if you don't mind.


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